


Train of Thought

by lil_1337



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-12
Updated: 2011-03-12
Packaged: 2017-11-07 00:56:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/425163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lil_1337/pseuds/lil_1337
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the <a href="http://gw500.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://gw500.livejournal.com/"><b>gw500</b></a> prompt train.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Train of Thought

'Fifty, fifty one, fifty two,' Wufei counted off the push ups in his head as he kept his body moving in a continuous fluid motion. Working out was a form of meditation for him. It gave him a chance to turn to turn off the voices in the back of his head and focus only on what was happening at that moment. Here in the dojo it was just him pushing his body to and then past its limits. The grief and guilt he bore with him like so much over sized carry on luggage fell away at the door waiting silently for when he would return and reclaim it.

The rhythm of his breathing set the pace of his workout as if he carried with him a built in metronome. In up and out down, a pattern designed for optional use of all his facilities. His eyes fixed on the wall across the room, open yet unseeing, focused completely on simply being. There was a luxury in pushing himself so hard, a channel for burning the passion no longer needed for the deeds of war. Peace had come to The Earth and Colonies yet it brought with it no redemption for the remaining member of the Dragon Clan. His heart and mind continued to rage like a swollen river pushing at the banks of his control.

He felt no remorse for the lives he had taken. No pain of regret. That burden belonged to Quatre, who had assumed it without complaint. What Wufei carried was the weight of what would never be. The failures that hung around his neck pulled him down like a series of weights, each heavier than the last. They stood, unyielding, as proof of his mediocrity. He was, in this and every moment, a husband without a wife, a colonist without a colony, and a warrior without a war. His purpose, the reason he had been fighting so long, was gone. In its wake he was left with no one to vent his anger on but himself.

What do you do when your job is done and your pride won't allow you to lie down and die? Was he as obsolete as the Gundam he refused to turn over to Quatre? Perhaps, in the end, he was as sentimental and weak as those he reviled because he was clung to the last remnant of L5 and Meiran like a child to a favorite toy. The man in him scoffed at the idea, but the boy buried deep inside wept at the thought of giving up Nataku for good.

Eventually his body would give out and Wufei would once again step off the mat and bow to show his respect. In that moment he would collect all of the pain that sat as a huddle mass just outside the door waiting for him. But for now a few more minutes of respite were granted as he continued to work his body thereby avoiding the whispers of his damaged soul.


End file.
